The Detritus of Dorian Gray
by GuardianSoulBlade
Summary: Terra's statue mysteriously vanishes. Beast Boy thinks Slade's behind it, but when Terra returns with a mysterious young man, things become more and more complicated as Dorian's secrets are revealed…Decicated to My Silver Wound. Deadfic.
1. Prologue: The Stranger

**The Detritus of Dorian Gray**

_Terra's statue mysteriously vanishes. Beast Boy thinks Slade's behind it, but when Terra returns with a mysterious young man, things become more and more complicated as Dorian's secrets are revealed…_

_**Rated:** PG-13, for violence, flashbacks of murder and romantic yada yada…_

_**Pairings: **Terra/Dorian, Robin/Starfire, Beast Boy/Raven_

_**Prologue: The Stranger**_

"I have wandered the world long enough," said the man, standing on the outskirts of a large, bustling metropolis called Jump City. "The time has come for me to settle down that I may further my own pursuits," he said, talking to the air alone who was his audience. He started towards the city, hoping for a new life there.

His crisp, slightly curly blond hair was combed neatly back. His eyes a lovely pale blue; and his face clean and fresh, one would think him a handsome young man, a lad of twenty. He was strong and vigorous, a fine young man, he appeared to be. And indeed he was, in looks, one could judge. His soul, however, was quite another thing altogether.

He carried with him a great frame, like that intended for holding a portrait. It was covered in a lovely silk cloth, or once lovely should be the better description of it now. It was worn and faded now; apparently, he had had it for many years. Perhaps he was an artist or a painter exhibiting his work at the local art shows around the city. Perhaps he intended to sell the painting for a profit. He passed by many people who smiled and waved in his direction. He did not return their gestures.

He was too deep in thought, so he paid little heed to any attention that was paid to him, if there was any at all. He was headed to a large building with a large neon sign that said JUMP CITY HOTEL. He ignored the curious gaze of onlookers as he entered the building.

A clerk at the Jump City hotel looked up as a young man walked in. "May I help you young man?" he asked. The boy looked to be about twenty. He had a strange air about him, mysteriousness he couldn't quite place his finger on. He was quite the handsome fellow; he looked like a British boy, perhaps a tourist.

"Okay sir, I need you to sign your name here," the clerk said, handing him a form. He looked up hesitantly, unsure only for a moment. He took the pen and signed his name. He handed it back to the clerk and the man frowned. "Sir, this is your _real _name?" he said skeptically.

"Yes, it is, "the man replied. "Mention nothing of my name to anyone. You will refer to me as Mr. Basil Hallward for your record."

"Yes, of course Mr. Hallward of course," the man said hastily. "Room 111 on the first floor sir," the clerk said. The young man said nothing to him and walked toward the hallway in which his accommodations were to be.

"Sir?" the clerk called after him.

"Yes?" 'Basil Howard' replied.

"The portrait, do you want it to be kept in the safe?"

"No, no. I shall keep it with me. It is safest with me. It shall always stay with me." Basil Hallward said simply as he walked away. He made his way down the hall until he came to his desired location. Standing for a moment outside of the doorway, he sighed. He hoped to begin a new life here. He had wandered around for a long, long time. Now he finally found a place that he could possibly settle down in. He ended his reverie and entered the room.

He used the key to unlock the door and he shut it again behind him. He looked around the small room. It was rather pleasant, and cheerful, brightly decorated curtains attached to a window that held before it and astonishingly beautiful view of the city. He stared out at the lovely view before him, looking but without seeing, observing without becoming involved. Then he noticed a strange abnormality in the landscape. There was a huge whole that appeared to be the entrance to a cave.

He made his way down inside, it was very dark and he found himself stumbling around in the dark. He looked up and saw a small light ahead of him and moved toward it. Then he saw something and it startled him.

It was a statue. Curious, he began to peer closer at it. It seemed strange; it was made of pure, solid rock. Unique, it was a different sight among a few scattered businesses and shops that littered the outskirts of Jump City. He decided to take a closer look. He walked out to the spot and began observing the statue with interest. He couldn't help but be drawn to it. There was something about it that intrigued him.

He stood, watching for awhile until a young man came to stand beside him. The man noticed the boy's strange complexion. He was green from the crown of his head to his feet, but he didn't seem to mind much. "So who is she lad?" he asked.

"You must not be from around here, are you dude?" the boy said. "Her name was Terra, she was a dangerous enemy, and the truest friend I have ever had."

"Dangerous, you say? Why was she dangerous?" he asked.

"She sold her soul to her master Slade in exchange she hoped to gain control of her powers that she had." The boy sighed, "In the end she sacrificed herself to save us, save the city and save herself." The green boy placed flowers at the statue's feet. "She was my best friend. We are still trying to find a cure for her." A beeping began and he said with haste. "I have to go dude, it was nice to meet you, Mr…"

"Gray, Mr. Gray," the man said simply. He watched the boy go. A tortured soul, this girl was, much like himself as he had once been; he had made a wish once and it had cost him much more than anyone could possibly imagine. He let a small smile cross his face. He had found a twin soul perhaps, there was another who had done what he had so foolishly did when he was a boy so long ago it seemed like a dream.

Looking around, he made sure no one was watching. He walked up to the statue and began to inspect the foundation. He found there were a few cracks and he suspected he could remove the statue in its entirety without causing too much damage to the concrete around it. He went away for a few hours and came back with what he needed. He began as quietly as he could, softly, delicately chiseling away at the base of the statue. Soon, he was done, he hoisted it onto his back and slipped off into the shadows, he hid the statue in his room that he might observe it and hopefully discover a cure for the imprisoned soul who resided within.

He had been a good man for many years, well as good as others considered him to be, but it was not always so. He had once been cruel and uncouth, causing pain and suffering to the others surrounding him. He had foolishly wished…no he would not think of that tonight. He would figure out a way to redeem the soul trapped inside the statue, and perhaps redeem his own in the process.

_**Quick Sticky: **If you figure out who my character is, you are very, very smart. Don't say who it is in reviews because that will ruin the fun of the surprise. His last name that I revealed at the end should give you a hint. He's a character from a famous book that I have just finished reading recently. I won't say what it is yet, I'll reveal that in the next sticky note for the next chapter, enjoy! The next chapter will have all the Titans in it and reveal a little more about the stranger 'Basil Hallward' Oh yeah, and for those who were wondering when this takes place, it's post season for which means Terra would be sixteen (I assume that because every season I count as a year in the lives to the Titans. In season one Beast Boy was fourteen, at least in the comics of Titans Go! I heard it somewhere...)…_


	2. Chapter One: Stolen Away

_**Chapter One: Stolen Away**_

The sunshine was warm and bright in Jump City as the Teen Titans sat in a local park enjoying a picnic. Beast Boy was munching on tofu concoctions, Tofu hotdogs and such. He was content to eat happily. Cyborg and the others were eating normal hotdogs and steak.

Robin looked up as he spotted a little boy walking towards them. "Hey, you guys are the Teen Titans, right?"

"Yes, that would be us!" Cyborg shouted. "Why do you ask?"

"Terra's statue on the outskirts of town is missing," the boy said.

"What do you mean 'missing'?" Beast Boy asked.

"It's gone," the boy explained. "It was ripped right out of the ground."

"No way!" Beast Boy shouted.

"Who would do such a thing?" Starfire asked.

"And we're so close to finding a cure for her," Raven said.

"Well, it looks like we have an investigation on our hands," Robin said. "Hey, do you know when this happened?"

"No, I just stopped by the place, I always liked Terra, you see, and I noticed this gigantic hole in the ground," the boy said. "I thought you guys should know, since she was a Titan and all."

"Thanks for your help," Robin said, thanking the boy. "Titans, let's go see what's going on."

They took the T-Car out to the very spot on the outskirts of Jump City where Terra's statue was. Climbing out, they could obviously see the spot where their friend had once been. Now she was gone, with nothing but an enormous hole where she had been.

"Who could've taken her?" Cyborg asked. "Surely someone would've seen _something_."

"This has Slade written all over it," Robin said. "He's capable of doing something like this."

"Yes, but to what purpose would that serve him?" Starfire asked. "Terra saved the city, as I recall, correct?"

"Yeah, but maybe if he can cure her he could get her on his side again," Beast Boy said. "We have to find her."

"He's right, you know, but why would Slade bother to chisel her out of the ground? With his fire powers he could just burn out the base of the statue," Cyborg pointed out.

Raven pointed to the spot where Terra had been, "Thesearen't burn marks. Besides, Slade's new powers came from my father and since he renegged on his deal, he took Slade's powers. He doesn't have them anymore."

"Slade could've done it, it looks like he did...Wait!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "I might know who could've taken her!"

"Who took her?" Robin demanded.

"I met this guy yesterday, seemed really interested in Terra. Asked me who she was and stuff," Beast Boy explained. "He wasn't from around here. He sounded like he was British, accent and everything."

"Did you get a name by any chance?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, said his name was Mr. Gray," Beast Boy said.

"Cyborg, when we get back to the Tower, run a search for "Mr. Gray", any hint we can find will help us find Terra." They went back to the Tower.

Back at the Tower, Cyborg ran a search for a "Mr. Gray" in the computer. Evidently, there were thousands of Mr. Grays all over the country. "It's really odd," Cyborg told Robin, "between all the lists of names of real Mr. Grays I keep getting search results for THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY by Oscar Wilde."

"Well, a fictional character won't help us find the real Mr. Gray. Any of these guys have criminal records?"

"No, that doesn't help us at all," Cyborg sighed.

"I suppose we'll have to keep searching," Robin said disappointed.

"Yeah, I guess we will," Cyborg agreed.

* * *

_The handsome gentleman stood with his friend inside a threadbare, mostly empty room. His curly blond hair gleamed in the candlelight as his friend stared at the portrait with an expression of disgusted horror._

_"What does this mean?" cried Hallward, at last. His own voice sounded shrill and curious in his ears. _

_"Years ago, when I was a boy," said Dorian Gray, crushing the flower in his hand, "you met me, flattered me, and taught me to be vain of my good looks. One day you introduced me to a friend of yours, who explained to me the wonder of youth, and you finished a portrait of me that revealed to me the wonder of beauty. In a mad moment that, even now, I don't know whether I regret or not, I made a wish, perhaps you would call it a prayer. . . ." _

_"I remember it! Oh, how well I remember it! No! The thing is impossible. The room is damp. Mildew has got into the canvas. The paints I used had some wretched mineral poison in them. I tell you the thing is impossible." _

_"Ah, what is impossible?" murmured the young man, going over to the window and leaning his forehead against the cold, mist-stained glass._

"_"Can't you see your ideal in it?" said Dorian bitterly. _

_"My ideal, as you call it. . ." _

_"As you called it." _

_"There was nothing evil in it, nothing shameful. You were to me such an ideal as I shall never meet again. This is the face of a satyr." _

"…_You told me you had destroyed it." Basil Hallward said after a slight pause. _

_"I was wrong. It has destroyed me." Replied the man simply._

_"I don't believe it is my picture…" the disbelief was evident in his voice. He simply could not have painted…the monstrosity that he was beholding was too horrific for him to even imagine._

_"Christ! what a thing I must have worshipped! It has the eyes of a devil." _

_"Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil," cried Dorian with a wild gesture of despair. _

_Hallward turned again to the portrait and gazed at it. "My God! If it is true," he exclaimed, "and this is what you have done with your life, why, you must be worse even than those who talk against you fancy you to be!" He held the light up again to the canvas and examined it. The surface seemed to be quite undisturbed and as he had left it. It was from within, apparently, that the foulness and horror had come. Through some strange quickening of inner life the leprosies of sin were slowly eating the thing away. The rotting of a corpse in a watery grave was not so fearful. _

_His hand shook, and the candle fell from its socket on the floor and lay there sputtering. He placed his foot on it and put it out. Then he flung himself into the rickety chair that was standing by the table and buried his face in his hands. _

_"Good God, Dorian, what a lesson! What an awful lesson!" There was no answer, but he could hear the young man sobbing at the window. "Pray, Dorian, pray," he murmured. "What is it that one was taught to say in one's boyhood? 'Lead us not into temptation. Forgive us our sins. Wash away our iniquities.' Let us say that together. The prayer of your pride has been answered. The prayer of your repentance will be answered also. I worshipped you too much. I am punished for it. You worshipped yourself too much. We are both punished." _

_Dorian Gray turned slowly around and looked at him with tear-dimmed eyes. "It is too late, Basil," he faltered. _

_"It is never too late, Dorian. Let us kneel down and try if we cannot remember a prayer. Isn't there a verse somewhere, 'Though your sins be as scarlet, yet I will make them as white as snow'?" _

_"Those words mean nothing to me now." _

_"Hush! Don't say that. You have done enough evil in your life. My God! Don't you see that accursed thing leering at us?" _

_Basil Hallward was sitting at the table, shaking and trembling with shock. The young man felt a feeling of madness come over him, as a hunted animal feels when it is cornered by the hunters. He looked around the room frantically. His eyes lay upon the knife he had brought up there to cut a. silently, he took the knife and walked over to his friend. He quickly plunged the knife into Basil's skull, into the vein right above the man's ear. Two, three times more and the deed was done. He heard the sound of his friend choking on his own blood. Then all was silent, except for his own breathing. Basil Hallward, artist and close friend and acquaintance, murdered._

He woke up in a cold sweat in his hotel room. The young man stared at himself in a mirror as he entered the bathroom. He was indeed a mysterious young man. And he was no ordinary man. He was Mr. Gray. Mr. Dorian Gray. He had sold his soul for eternal youth and beauty, and he was paying for it with a guilty conscience and a miserable, eternal life.

He wasn't just a work of fiction. No, he was very real. Who was anonymous narrator of the story? Oscar Wilde. The one who had told him the story? The living, breathing, immortal Dorian Gray himself. What there logical explanation for Dorian Gray's suicide at the end of the bizarre, disturbing tale? It was indeed true. How he was alive again? Easily explained, the portrait still stood. And while it stood, he still survived, reviving shortly after his own funeral.

He had taken to wandering the world, eventually his paths crossed with Oscar Wilde, whom he told his tale, and was published as a work of "fiction." But he was very real, very real indeed. Now he had come to Jump City, and here he would reside. For the time being, he never stayed in one place too long. Then people would become suspicious.

But he thought he might settle down here, he like what he saw of the city. Tomorrow he would go look around more. He looked at his handsome, comely face once more in the mirror. Washing it quickly, he went back into the room. He couldn't help but glance at the statue of the girl the green boy had called "Terra." He did not know what she looked like when she was human, but she was beautiful to him at any rate.

What as he thinking? Why should he care? But he did, and he wanted to help her. He was acting far different than he had in the past, but why? He had spared someone once just to see how it felt, not that he actually meant it sincerely. He had done it out of curiosity.

Indeed goodness was something that he had not yet mastered. Dorian sighed, and left the room. He slept fitfully, rising early in the morning, he opened the curtains. He looked at the statue intently. He had taken something of great value. He knew the green boy he had met the previous day cared about the girl. He had brought her flowers and said that she was the greatest friend he had ever had. He knew that what he had done was wrong. But what were right and wrong to him. He had nothing to stand for, he believed in nothing, no one.

But he would free her somehow. Many long ages he had lived and had learned all there was to know. He would use all his vast knowledge to free her. He did not feel like turning on a light so he lit a candle. The flame flickered, giving off a soft glow, lighting the statue's features. He noted the resolved, somewhat resigned look on the girl's face, as if she knew this was the end.

He turned his attention to the portrait. Yes, his deepest, darkest secret lay behind the covering. He drew it back and stared intently at the loathsome visage before him. Indeed it was his face, his likeness, but yet horrid and disfigured beyond recognition. This was the face of his soul. His conscious that reminded him of every sin and vice he had committed in his long, long life.

He saw before him, the wrinkled skin, the decaying teeth; the yellow, pallid color of his face, white, straggly hair, thinned by time. Hands were red as if with blood and at his feet, a red stain. Indeed, he was fascinated by the grotesque image before him. The corruption of his own soul, which he felt, in his own mind, could never be redeemed unless some twist of good luck or good fortune befell him, he would never be redeemed.

He wished somehow the other person in the room, trapped in the stone statue would be freed, somehow he wished he could help her learn from his mistakes, so that she would have a better life than he had. But what good were his wishes? His desires only caused others pain. Indeed a wish for eternal youth had cost him his own soul! He sighed, and threw the covering back over the picture. He was about to climb back into bed when he turned his gaze once more upon the statue.

He blinked for a moment; it seemed the eyes glowed with a pale golden color. He rubbed his forehead. No, it was just the flickering of the candlelight. Nothing more. No, steadily the hardened form began to ebb and give way. A beautiful glow filled the room, he moved closer to the figure as a cry was heard. He caught he girl as she fell.

"Wh—where am I?" she asked, breathless.

"In a place called Jump City," Dorian replied kindly.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter, child," he replied. "But what matters is who you are."

"My name is Terra, and I have no regrets."

"Regrets, about what?"

"What I have done in my past."

"I see. And what have you done?"

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"Then you must stay with me tonight and tell me in the morning," Dorian said simply.

"It seems I have no choice."

"You shall sleep on one bed, I shall take the other."

"Thank you. And you are…"

"Mr. Gray, but you must call me Basil Hallward, at least in front of the clerk."

"Goodnight, Mr. Gray."

"Goodnight Ms. Terra." They both slept peacefully that night. Things were looking up for both of them.

_**Quick Sticky: **Well, there you have it. The revelation of the identity of our mysterious stranger; Mr. Dorian Gray is the creation of Oscar Wilde and not owned by me at all. To find out his story, read THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. It's a disturbing, thought provoking, and simply a mind blowing piece of literature. It's considered a classic story of greed, corruption of character and the tragedy that result from foolish wishes and the willingness to sacrifice what is really important for the meaninglessness of desiring immortality. This is one of the** best **books I've ever read. _

_I paraphrased the murder scene but all the dialogue in the dream is from the book, I copy-pasted a section of the book. I'm saying in this note that it's not mine so I won't be accused of plagiarism, so this is my disclaimer saying that I don't own Dorian Gray._

**_(Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York: Random, 1998.)_**


	3. Chapter Two: Blackened Canvas

**Chapter Two: Blackened Canvas**

Dorian Gray awoke early that morning; rising silently he dressed himself and walked over to the painting. He removed the cover to examine it. He was always examining it. Searching for any sign of redemption, perhaps his good deeds would amount to something, and the portrait would one day revert back to its former glory.

Dorian smirked, the picture restored to its former glory; please, even if he could erase the hideous marks of his dark past off the canvas, it would make no difference, the picture was still show the signs of age. He would never be innocent, not like he was, he could never get that back.

He gazed upon the hideous face and noted that the sneer on the mouth had moved a little, in which direction, he had no clue, whether it was becoming better or worse was still in doubt. The blood on the hands and shoes was still there, that was the one thing that had never changed. It would always be there.

There was a loud groan that startled Dorian out of his reverie. He hastily covered the canvas and turned around to see the blonde-haired girl Terra stirring in her bed. Dorian watched the girl sit up and blink sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning," he said with no emotion in his voice. She stared at him intently.

"You owe me an explanation, child," Dorian said in a voice that sounded like a command and not a suggestion.

"What do you mean, explanation, Mr., uh, what was your name? I forgot."

"Mr. Hallward," Dorian replied. "You owe me an explanation of your past and what you have done that turned you to into a stone statue."

"Oh yeah, I said I'd tell you in the morning, didn't I?" Terra said with a yawn.

"Yes, you did," Dorian said, scrutinizing her.

"I…I've done horrible things, to my friends, the people who cared about me. I betrayed them, and tried to destroy them. And it was all because I wanted…to control my powers," Terra sighed. "And I lost everything. I am a liar and a spy, a traitor. I am amazed I'm even here talking to you. I'm not a good person."

_Terra, you are a saint compared to me. I have done…more than you could ever dream of._ Dorian watched her every move. She was like him, although her circumstances were different, she had wanted something so badly, she had, in a way, sold her soul for it. Much like him. And she had lost all because of it. Two people. Different circumstances. Same results.

Dorian turned away from her and headed to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection for a moment and then turned his attention to cleaning himself up. He exited the bathroom in silence and watched as Terra went in after him. Thirty minutes later she came out wearing the same clothes she had slept in. Dorian realized she would need something else to wear. He kept his frustration inward as he smiled at her. He wasn't used to taking care of someone else. It was a change, one that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, trying to be polite.

"It's the suit, it's embedded into my nervous system, it's in my skin, I have no way to get it off," Terra explained. "Slade, he used it to control me."

_Ah, so this wasn't completely of her own volition, someone was manipulating her. _Dorian was interested. This man Slade had a mind like his own except he was trying to change his and Slade was not.

"What can you tell me about this man Slade?" Dorian asked.

"Why do you want to know? And why should I trust you?" Terra snapped. "I mean, I just—I just come back without any explanation and you're standing there asking me all these questions, claiming you want to _help_ me and then you start grilling me about my past when _I _should be asking _you _about _your _past. Why are you interested in me? Are you some kind of stalker?"

Dorian felt his anger rising. She was an impudent, insulting, and fiery to boot, he didn't want to lose his temper. Dorian felt amazed that a child could push him into a rage so easily. Being immortal, there weren't many things that could anger him, he had seen much and well, anger was an emotion he wasn't inclined to feel because he didn't have much to be angry about.

A fierce glint came into his eye, "Be careful what you say to me, child. I saved your life."

"How?" Terra asked sarcastically. "You wished me back here?"

_Now I know why the Americans say that blonde's are dumb_, Dorian smirked. He wasn't stupid, he had lived long enough to know that if he was to keep his immortality a secret, he had to blend in and act like everyone else.

"Careful Terra, you might be more right than you know," Dorian gave her a smile.

Terra gazed at her strange companion and shuddered. Who knew a smile could send chills down her spine? There was something in it, something foreboding and ominous, a mysterious sense of…evil? It was curious and yet it frightened her. Who _was _he?

"Who are you?" Terra demanded. "I've given you what you wanted, you have to tell me who you are and what that thing is," she pointed to the enormous canvas draped in a dark cloth.

"That is not for you to know, that is my business, not yours!" the man calling himself Mr. Hallward said in a harsh voice. Terra was startled. His demeanor could change on a whim. He could be warm and charming one minute and an angry, snarling monster the next. She began to wonder if she had been "rescued" by a raving psychopath. At least Slade didn't have a split personality, he was always the same way, and he didn't change his demeanor quickly, she flinched at the memory of when he had beaten her because she failed to destroy the Teen Titans. Mr. Hallward, however, appeared to be mentally unstable. Had she returned to the world just to fall into the hands of a madman? She shuddered and moved away from him, pressing her body against the wall as much as she could.

Dorian could see the fear and terror in her eyes and forced himself to calm down. He was a hard man to live with, many people, if they were still alive would have told her so. He took a deep breath, "I must…apologize for my behavior Terra. I'm unaccustomed to having company. I prefer to be alone."

"Then why am I here?" Terra asked.

"That is very…complicated." Mr. Hallward look thoughtful. "Do you need something to eat?"

"I'm starving," Terra admitted.

"Stay here, I'll go get you something," Mr. Hallward said, getting up from his chair.

"Mr. Hallward," Terra began, "is that thing under the canvas a painting."

The man nodded. Terra decided to push her luck a little further. "Is it a portrait?" Another nod. "Can I look at it?"

"No," Mr. Hallward said in that same angry tone he had used earlier, to her astonishment, he actually picked her up by her shirt and pulled her close to his face. "You may _never_ look at it! It is something very personal. Never look beneath the drape, child. The day you do I will know it…If you and I are to be friends you will never look upon the image on that canvas, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Terra said in a near whisper. She had no idea how she was going to be able to live with this man; he scared the daylights out of her. She was _really_ starting to wonder if he was schizophrenic. What was it about that painting that made him so secretive? She could see the portrait frame; it was about life size. What was it hiding? She tried to put the thought out of her mind. She had other things to think about. Mr. Hallward set her down on the ground and turned to leave.

Dorian kept his eyes on her as he left the room. He hoped she would keep her end of the bargain. If she did look upon the portrait, discovering who he was…he didn't know what he'd do. The last person who had gazed upon that portrait was its painter, and he was dead by Dorian's hand. If she knew who he was she might reject him, then what? It wasn't as if he cared, or tried not to anyway, he _wanted_ to be good, but he didn't know how, not anymore.

He headed down to the lobby used some cash to buy breakfast and headed back to his room. He found Terra sitting on the floor. Her eyes were fixed on the canvas. He knew that curiosity was gnawing away at her. She wanted to know what it was; he could see it in her eyes.

"Come, eat something," he said in a voice that sounded hollow, devoid of emotion. She looked up at him, snapped out her trancelike state and eagerly wolfed down the food he brought her. He would be safe, for now. He wondered how long it would be before curiosity overtook his companion…how long it would be before she knew who he was. She didn't suspect a thing, and ignorance is bliss, he hoped she would never know his true intentions for keeping her with him.

* * *

Robin stood at the central computer in Titans Tower, furiously running the name "Mr. Gray" through all the databases in the known world, there were plenty of them, but none of them seemed to fit Beast Boy's description of the blonde-haired young man he had seen at Terra's memorial. Robin left the console frustrated; it didn't help him that the man he was looking for didn't seem to exist.

Robin was busy thinking when he approached Beast Boy. "Beast Boy, you said there was a man named Mr. Gray who was very interested in Terra. How could you just go tell her story to a complete stranger? That could have been Slade for all we know!"

"I don't know why I did it dude, he just…I don't know, it seemed like it was really important to him. Don't ask me why I opened my big fat mouth though."

"Oh please, have you found the madman who has stolen away Terra's statue?" Starfire asked.

"No Star, I haven't." Robin turned to Beast Boy. "I have some bad news for you, Beast Boy."

"What would that be?" Beast Boy asked; he was worried about Terra.

"The man that fits your description does not exist."

"Dude, what do you _mean_ he doesn't exist? I talked to the guy and I can assure you, it wasn't a ghost or a zombie! Believe me I'd know."

"How would _you _know what a zombie is Beast Boy?" Raven asked sarcastically.

"Believe me Raven, the man I met was no zombie," Beast Boy stated.

"Well, Zombie or not, we have a missing Titan and no clue where she is," Cyborg said, walking up behind them.

"I guess we'll have to find her," Robin said, standing up. Suddenly, the alarm blared.

"Titans, trouble!" Robin said. He ordered the others to move out. Their search for Terra would have to wait. They had other problems at the moment.


End file.
